


Choice, Clarity, and Consequence

by call_for_help



Series: thicker than blood [1]
Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: -grabs broom-, 6x02 onward never happened, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Henry and Jacob get domestic, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Malachi is absolutely a movie villain, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Walt Longmire/Consequences, Walt's tangled web of drama, discussions of Cady's vision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27410407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_for_help/pseuds/call_for_help
Summary: Cady finds herself on the outskirts of a dangerous situation, but in Absaroka County secrets run thicker than blood.--A reweaving of post-season 5 plot threads.
Relationships: Cady Longmire & Walt Longmire, Cady Longmire/Jacob Nighthorse
Series: thicker than blood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066670
Comments: 28
Kudos: 17





	1. A Long Day

**Author's Note:**

> The following is part 1 of what I expect to be (fingers crossed) a three part series. Jacob/Cady is the main ship but the POV alternates among most of the major characters as I attempt to tell the full story of what might have happened after 6x01 had the plot arcs of season 5 stayed on course (full offense intended to S6). Each chapter covers the important events of one day.

Cady sat next to Walt in the hospital room, the quiet black night out the window behind them contrasting the artificial glow of the lights and blinking, buzzing machines. Henry laid unconscious in the bed in front of them, having passed out during Walt’s drive to the hospital.

She had to wonder how Walt himself had not passed out as well either from exertion or snakebite. After his hand had been bandaged and he declined additional care, he’d returned to Henry’s room to sit with her.

They waited for hours together, mostly in silence, following Walt’s explanation of the rescue of his… _traitorous best friend_? She knew he still cared for Henry but she also believed Walt would take this opportunity to pretend that saving his life made up for the accusations and punches he’d leveled at him recently. Which, of course, neither of them had mentioned to her; she'd overheard some people relating the spectacle at the Red Pony. Knowing her godfather, he’d probably let Walt get away with his ‘actions speak louder than words, no apology needed’ routine.

She shook her head imperceptibly, wondering if her own fractured relationship with her father could only continue if she was willing to overlook similarly large betrayals. _Like tracking my cell phone_. Eyes closing as she leaned her head back to rest on the chair, Cady took a deep breath. They couldn’t really hope to go on like this, and yet what could she say that hadn’t been said? If Walt thought her stress was caused by anything other than Henry’s current condition he didn’t show it.

She sat back up, resting her chin on folded hands, tear stained eyes unfocused, taking in none of the tiny depressing hospital room. She knew one thing. He wan’t going to get away with accusing Jacob of kidnapping Henry before he even woke up. Of course she didn’t believe Jacob had anything to do with it, despite Walt’s arguing, but she knew she wouldn’t even begin to convince him before he’d heard it from Henry’s mouth.

Walt stretched out his legs and brought his arms over his head, drawing Cady’s attention to his bandaged hand. “Doesn’t look like Henry’s gonna be waking up tonight. You’ve had a long day, Punk. Why don’t you go home, get some rest? I’ll stay here with him, ‘case someone comes back to finish the job.”

Ever the peace-keeper she replied, “ _I’ve_ had a long day? I didn’t drag a grown man across the desert with a snake bite on my hand. If anyone needs a good rest, it’s you.”

“Way this week has gone I don’t think I’ll be doing much sleeping, so. Not with Nighthorse out there having people shoot at me, kidnap Henry.” He gestured with his hand as if to include the many other atrocities Jacob had doubtlessly committed.

Cady sighed, knowing there would be no reasoning with him on this point but unable to resist an attempt. “Why don't we wait to see what Henry has to say before throwing out blind accusations?”

Walt’s face grew stern. “Henry was tied to _his_ stakes, Cady. What more proof do you want?”

“You know what Dad, you’re right,” she said, standing up for the first time in what felt like days. “It’s been a long day. I’ll see you in the morning.”


	2. Stubborn Heroics

It was 7:30 before Cady was in her car and on her way back to the hospital. She couldn’t help but hurry, not really wanting Henry to wake up without her there, though she assured herself her fears were unfounded. Remembering what day it was as she approached the hospital, she asked her phone to call Jacob and he answered on the third ring.

“Cady”

“Jacob, hi. I know it’s last minute but I was hoping I could get the day off. Henry’s in the hospital and—”

“Of course. What’s happened to Standing Bear?”

 _How to put this delicately…_ “He was, uh, well, kidnapped and left to die. It seems like the worst of it is severe dehydration but he was still unconscious last night.”

Jacob let out a knowing sigh, leaving her with a few unasked questions to add to the ever growing queue she might get around to one of these days. She didn’t have time right now though. “Uh, I’m gonna have to let you go. I just pulled in to the hospital.”

“Good luck, Cady. Let me know if Standing Bear comes to.”

“Will do. Bye.” She stowed her phone in her purse, grabbed her keys, and almost tripped getting out of the car. _Dad’s paranoia must be contagious_ , she thought as she practically ran to the hospital’s entrance, slowing herself to a walk for decency’s sake, irrationally fearing what she would find when she got to Henry’s room. She knocked on the closed door before coming in and her heart leapt and sank simultaneously as she saw that Henry was awake and Walt was gone.

“Henry! You’re awake! Are you hurt? Can I hug you?”

His smile looked a tad strained as he answered, “It is not so much pain as a feeling of my body slowly returning itself to my control. The first phase of that process was not very pleasant but by now I may have enough sway to convince my arms to hug you back.”

She walked over to the side of the bed where there weren’t bags of liquid connected to Henry and was pleased to find he could in fact lean forward and wrap his tube free arm around her. “I was so worried.” She started tearing up again.

“Shh… I am safe now,” he reassured her. Somewhat placated, she stood back up and returned to one of the chairs by the window where she had sat less than eight hours earlier. She had so many questions for Henry, the first being how did he end up staked to the ground on the Crow Rez.

He explained his abduction, Malachi’s granddaughter as the bait, leading him to a house where he found Malachi, Darius, and a few others he did not recognize.

“Darius. _I_ got Darius out of jail. He was locked up. And I got him released,” she said after Henry confirmed what she already knew. Walt’s choice words on the subject rang in her ears, _“You shouldn’t be working with guys like that,”_ as the tears they’d caused threatened to reappear.

“Cady, Malachi has many allies. Darius being detained would not have changed anything. You cannot hold yourself responsible for this.”

She took a deep breath, tears still poised at the corners of her eyes, and nodded. “Speaking of holding people responsible… where’s Dad?”

“Ah. I trust he told you his theory about who is behind all this?” Cady nodded, anxious for his next words. “I convinced him to leave Jacob out of it, for now. He is off searching for Malachi, though I do not expect he will be easy to find.”

“…for now?”

Henry looked as though he wished he could provide greater reassurance. “I believe his exact words were, ‘As soon as I find Malachi, Nighthorse is going down.’” Cady let her head fall into her hands, no tears this time, just tired frustration. After a few minutes, she got up to get some vending machine coffee and texted Jacob.

 _Henry’s awake_.

* * *

Driving away from the hospital a little earlier, Walt had wasted no time checking in with the Sheriff’s office. “You there Ruby?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Vic around?”

“She hasn’t come in today. Do you want me to call her?”

“Yep.” Static filled the Bronco for a solid minute as Walt wondered where Vic could be. They’d exchanged good news about Henry’s rescue and the bank robbery shooting the previous afternoon but he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. “No answer. I left her a message.”

“Okay. Keep trying will you? I have something I have to take care of. Can you ask Ferg to meet me outside the station in 15 minutes?”

“He’ll be there.”

* * *

Cady looked up from her second cup of coffee at the sound of footsteps. “Jacob,” she muttered, a little surprised to see him.

“Cady, hey,” he gave her a quick glance, strolling into the room and stopping at the foot of the bed, before focusing on Henry. “How are you doing Henry?”

“I have been better,” he replied with a touch more harshness than his usual quips.

“So, what happened?”

“Malachi,” Henry dragged out the name, nodding with a rather intense look in his eyes. Cady felt that there was something more being communicated here but couldn’t quite connect the dots.

“Hmm.” Jacob nodded pensively. “You know this isn’t over.”

“I had considered it.”

Cady knew better than to interrupt. She was honestly pretty grateful to not have been asked to leave the room. _Too many damn secrets lately._

Jacob spoke again, his voice laced with hidden meaning, “I think it might be _best_ if you came to stay with me for a while. Once you get out of here.”

“Thank you for the offer Jacob, but I am not going to spend my life in hiding. There is no way of knowing when Malachi’s next move will be. If ever.”

“Henry…” he drawled. “Now is not the time for stubborn heroics. How would Cady feel if you turned up dead knowing you could have been protected?”

Jacob never took his eyes off of Henry but Cady could almost sense his acknowledgement of her presence. Now she knew why she had not been asked to leave. She briefly considered feeling offended that Jacob would use her to manipulate Henry, but if he was in as much danger as they both seemed to believe, she couldn’t really blame him. Henry clung to his pride as stubbornly as her father.

Henry scowled at Jacob. “What you call protection, I call house arrest. I have been there before and do not have an interest in going back.”

“Even so…” Jacob ever so subtly turned his head in Cady’s direction, making one last plea to Henry’s sense of impending guilt.

“Fine. For now,” he finally agreed, though he clearly did not like the particular corner he had been backed into.

Jacob gave him the slightest of nods in acknowledgement before turning back towards the window. “Cady, can I speak with you a moment outside?”

“Sure,” she replied hesitantly, leaving her coffee on the small formica table between the two chairs. Jacob turned back to Henry for one last wordless exchange as Cady brushed past him on her way out.

He followed her out of the room and closed the door behind him before leaning against it, his hands in his pockets. Cady couldn’t quite collect her thoughts about the conversation she’d just witnessed before Jacob said, “I imagine you have some questions. Suffice to say… the sheriff isn’t the only one I need protection from.”

“Malachi wants you dead because you fired him?” He held her gaze but didn’t give anything away.

She crossed her arms and tried again. “What does he have against Henry?”

“I made a deal with Henry that was mutually beneficial at the time. I regret that it led to violence, even if our actions were necessary…” he trailed off, glancing down the hallway.

“If you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, I get it Jacob, I do, but I could do without the ambiguity.” _I get enough of that from my dad_ , she thought but held inside.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was earnest, but even. “You deserve the truth, but I can’t let you get involved with this. For one thing, your dad would kill me.”

She chuckled, noting but not challenging the change in subject. She could almost see a touch of relief in his eyes. “He might be trying soon anyway. I… didn’t want to be right. About my dad. But he thinks you were behind Henry’s kidnapping. He said Henry was tied to your stakes.”

He took this information in with his usual impassiveness. “Cady, I need you to do something for me.”

She paused, wondering how asking her for favors was compatible with not getting her involved. “Okay.”

“Let me know when Standing Bear is going to be released and don’t let him leave with anyone but me.”

The seriousness of his voice caught her off guard, even after the dire tone of his exchange with Henry. She was surprised at the amount of responsibility he seemed to feel for Henry’s situation. Worry returned to her face as she nodded, wondering more than ever what had started this series of events.

Jacob pushed off the door and they exchanged a silent goodbye. She watched him retreat down the hallway, struck more than ever by the contradictory nature of their relationship.

On the surface, she felt she was only just starting to get to know Jacob outside of his reputation, but there was _something_ about their interactions that made her feel like they already understood each other on a much more fundamental level. It was mildly intoxicating and she felt herself being drawn in despite the obvious and potentially hidden dangers.

Now Jacob was trying to walk the line of not letting her in on whatever was going on with Malachi while relying on her as his only ally in the fight against Henry’s pride and Walt’s protectiveness. She could accept if not fully understand the desire for discretion, mostly because he at least admitted to keeping her in the dark. But she wondered how long he could reasonably expect to hide the truth, and what it might reveal if she heard it.

Pushing these thoughts aside for the time being, she took the few steps towards the door to rejoin Henry and await the next visit from the doctor.

* * *

Walt dropped his rifle by the door and turned on the lights before making his way to the fridge in search of a Rainier. The day had not gone at all as he had expected. Matthias had been kind enough to let him and Ferg search for Malachi, Darius, and the others involved in Henry’s kidnapping, but they had come up short. That part was not that surprising, given Malachi’s resources and network of allies. What surprised Walt was Henry’s announcement that he would feel safer staying with Nighthorse for the time being. And there Cady was defending both of them. Even with everything that had happened between them recently, he couldn’t believe it. He lost his temper. But Henry’s voice had remained calm. _“It is not up to you.”_ Henry was right, Walt hated not being in control.

He noticed the blinking of his answering machine and saw the message was from Vic. _Probably to tell me she’s quitting to be Nighthorse’s head of security._ He pressed play anyway.

“Hey, Walt. So, um, with the Cowboy Bill thing wrapped up and Henry being found I figured now is as good a time as ever to, uh, take a couple days off. I guess I really should be _asking_ but, um, I just really need some time, clear my head, and, it’s not really my fault that you don’t own a fucking cell phone, so. But, uh, don’t worry if I’m unreachable… I’ll talk to you soon.”

Walt sighed, finally getting his answer to where Vic had been all day. The call had come in the evening before, which he spent in the hospital. He thought about trying to call her back but settled on grabbing a second Rainier and heading out to the porch. After the past few unseasonably warm days, the chill in the air was almost as refreshing as the beer as he stared out at the moonlit landscape.


	3. A Choice

On her lunch break the next day, Cady drove over to the Red Pony, hoping to talk to Henry about the images she couldn’t quite get out of her head. Despite being under ‘house arrest’ as he put it, he insisted on going to work.

When she pulled in, the parking lot was empty but she got out anyway, pulling her flannel a little tighter over her v-neck t-shirt, not quite dressed for the sudden drop in temperature. As she approached the front door she noticed a hand-written flier taped up indicating a reduced schedule for the remainder of the week. It didn’t keep her from trying though. She knocked at the door and called out, “Henry! Are you in there?”

After a minute the door opened and Henry waved her in. She followed him to the bar where he had been prepping drink garnishes. “Already checking to make sure I have not skipped bail?” he asked as she sat down across from him.

Cady smiled at the quip, pleased to see his trademark sense of humor had not been completely squashed by all he had gone through recently. “No, actually, with everything that happened the past few days, I never got to tell you about my first sweat.”

He smiled warmly. “And I never got to congratulate you. Welcome to the tribe Cady. You seem to have made quite the impression. May even called the other week just to tell me how much you helped her cousin.” He reached for another lime and started slicing it into wedges.

“It wasn’t the impression I was hoping to make but…” she trailed off, her train of thought interrupted by images of bullets falling in slow motion to the floor, foreshadowing the drop of a man soon after. She shook the image out of her head before continuing, “What I really wanted to talk to you about was… Well, in the sweat I, saw things. Like a vision? Mandy says it doesn’t happen that often and I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I will tell you the same thing I tell your father; I am not a dream interpreter,” he replied with his patented ‘Oh, Cady’ look.

She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I don’t know if I even want to know what it all means. But part of it already came true, sort of…”

He lowered his eyebrows and stopped his prep work, giving her his full attention, and wordlessly asked her to continue.

Her voice caught in her throat as she began, “I, uh, I saw, you. Hanging, from a tree.” His eyes widened slightly but he remained silent. “You weren’t dead. I saw you hold up your phone like you were answering it,” she rushed out, reminding herself that Henry’s head was still in a proverbial noose.

“That _is_ disturbing. I retract my previous comment. I did not know your vision was so… literal.”

“I hope the rest of it doesn’t become literal,” she shrugged. “There was blood, a bunch of empty rooms, and…” She looked down at her hands, still not completely sure about sharing the rest.

“And?” Henry encouraged.

“Jacob, dressed as a Dog Soldier, and Dad, waving a gun over his head.” Cady looked up from her hands, eyes wide with residual fear.

Henry mulled over this last, most interesting bit for a moment. “Walt’s gun. Could it have been your rifle?”

“I—I don’t know,” she said with furrowed brows, trying to recall the memory. Failing that, the weight of Henry’s suggestion hit her in full force as she recalled what Jacob had said about the rifle’s tradition.

Henry’s voice called her back to the present. “Cady, what did Jacob say when he gave you that rifle?”

“He said giving it to me was a sign of trust. Because you never arm your enemies.” She kept the rest of Jacob’s explanation to herself; if it was in fact a well known tradition, Henry could surely draw his own conclusions.

“Then Walt having it is either a sign of trust that I do not believe will ever exist, or a sign of broken trust. Either way, the general sense is one of battle. A confrontation perhaps.”

_Or a choice_ , Cady thought to herself, remembering how the vision had seemed to flicker between the two men.

She took a deep breath, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Thanks for listening Henry. I wish I could say I feel better about everything but… Stay safe,” she added as she got up to leave.

Henry gave her a curious look and hesitated a moment before he replied, “I feel I should say the same to you.”

She froze and met his eyes where she could clearly read his implications. Grateful that he did not feel the need to voice them, she simply nodded before walking to the door.

* * *

Vic pulled up to her trailer that evening totally spent. She cursed inwardly at the sight of Travis sitting outside, under the warm glow of the street lights. _What is it this time?_ She really did not have the energy for this right now. The drive from Billings wasn’t supposed to be that long so she’d let herself sleep in for the first time in months and treated herself to a late lunch of pad thai. One of the things she missed most about Philly was the variety. In restaurants, in people… in driving routes.

By the time she started seeing brake lights she was well past committed to I-90. She made a mental note to check the news when she got back because, _of fucking course,_ after sitting through miles of crawling traffic everything sped up again seemingly without explanation. How there were even that many cars on the road she had no idea, casino traffic being her best guess. After finally getting used to long drives through the middle of nowhere, the experience was doubly draining when all she wanted was an easy day and an easy drive home. And of course the person she least wanted to see was there waiting for her.

Exiting the vehicle, she put on her best annoyed but not overwhelmed act and approached him. “What are you doing here Travis? It’s late.”

“Well I, uh, hadn’t seen your truck around so I talked to the Sheriff. He said you took a few days off but didn’t know where you were. So I figured…” he shrugged, clearly unable to justify his presence.

“You’re stalking me now? Is that it?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“W—I wouldn’t say _stalking,_ exactly. Just, with you getting attacked and what happened to Henry, it seems like there’s a lot going on. You need someone to look out for you.”

She never could tell if Travis knew how often he crossed the line between genuinely helpful and suffocatingly paternalistic. “What I need, Travis, is for you to leave me the fuck alone.” His mouth fell open slightly and his eyes betrayed more hurt than she’d intended. She wasn’t exactly unhappy to have someone besides Walt who seemed to genuinely care about her, but he needed to know where the line was. “Look, if I need you I’ll let you know. But you can’t keep showing up on my doorstep like some lost puppy.”

He still looked hurt, but also like he was finally starting to understand what she was asking. “Well, alright then.” He got up from the picnic table. “Just, ah, let me know when the next appointment is and I’ll go with you. If you want,” he added, her previous statement evidently taking a few seconds to sink in.

Vic knew there was a possibility that Travis would touch on the subject of her pregnancy but she didn’t expect it to hit her that hard. It was difficult to say what exactly she was feeling but Travis noticed the change in her face. “Vic, what’s, what’s wrong?”

She wasn’t quite to the point of tears but her voice was tight as she responded, “There won’t be any more appointments.” His mouth dropped and she could practically see the different lines of thought in his head, competing to become speech. “Just. Don’t. I don’t need any more of your help or your misplaced sense of ‘duty.’ This is my life Travis.”

Vic couldn’t help herself. She was sure of her decision but she was not counting on having to defend it to Travis so soon. It was a mixed blessing, him not only knowing, but actually seeming to give a shit about what she was going through. Was it worth attempting to ‘explain’ herself to maintain their often contentious friendship? Maybe not. Maybe she just wanted to take advantage of being able to talk to _someone_ about it, to let it all out before attempting to seal the entire pregnancy up in some recess of her mind, not to be dwelled on again.

“I live in a fucking _trailer_. My life has been one shitstorm after another and right when I _finally_ make a decision to move out here and start figuring things out, this happens and I—” Vic threw up her hands, frustrated with her situation, frustrated with Travis.

His face was less frantic now; she was shocked to find understanding mixed with the disappointment she saw in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Vic. I didn’t know that’s how you felt. I do wish… I wish you’d’ve let me be there, for you.”

At this she completely broke down and within seconds felt his arms wrapping around her as the poorly lit scene blurred further. While she’d mainly felt relief after the procedure was over, the drive up had been the loneliest of her life. She’d never expected Travis to react this way and almost hated that he could be this understanding when she really needed it. If he had given her any amount of grief, it would have been easy to push him away for good. But here he stood, despite his many moments of ineptitude, offering only his silent support as she cried into his shoulder.


	4. A More Traditional Route

Despite the late night, Vic arrived at the office early, hoping to catch up on what she’d missed before Walt got in. She hadn’t ended up trying to call him more after all and had a feeling she was going to hear about her unscheduled vacation.

She poured herself the first full-caffeine cup of coffee she’d had in a long time and took a sip, reveling in its energizing warmth. Maybe it would be enough to get her through the day. She heard the main door open and looked up to meet Walt’s eyes. “Vic. You’re back.”

“Yep,” she replied with her best attempt at a smile.

He pushed through the swinging door on his way to the coat rack and deposited his hat and the warmer of his two standard jackets.

Up close now, he could probably see the residual effects of her crying. Despite her best efforts, she knew her makeup didn’t completely conceal them. “So how was, uh, I mean did you get the chance to clear your head?”

She wished she knew what he was thinking, what he thought had caused her absence and what he thought had caused her tears.

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I think so. But, I’m back now. So, what did I miss? I was gonna try to catch up before everyone got in but I didn’t see any new case files.”

“Yeah, uh, nothing too serious has come in. Ferg and I’ve just been looking for Malachi, so. Since you’re here already, why don’t we head over to check in with Mathias. I’m thinking we need to change our tactic, maybe check out anyone's served prison time with Malachi who was released recently.”

Vic appreciated how easily Walt could be gotten off the subject of anything personal in favor of discussing a current investigation. It was a trait she’d taken advantage of a lot in the past few months, potentially to the detriment of their once close relationship. She didn’t know when or why they’d started pushing each other away. Maybe if all the chaos surrounding them finally died down for a while, she could start to figure it out. For now though, she grabbed her jacket and watched Walt put his coat and hat back on before following him out the door, right back into the chaos.

* * *

As Cady drove Mandy and her three new employees back from a group lunch to celebrate their first day, she felt surprisingly light. She still had so much weighing on her but bringing in new people felt a bit like turning a page and gave her hope that the legal aide was moving in the right direction. At least one aspect of her life was trending positive.

Pulling up to the residence turned office, she saw Jacob’s silver sedan parked outside. They all got out of Cady’s SUV and walked in to the empty main room. She asked Mandy to start showing the others the filing system in the newly cleaned out spare room before opening the door to her office, finding Jacob on the phone. He tensed a bit as she came in and shut the door, making her wonder what kind of conversation she was interrupting. It was her office though, so she wasn’t about to apologize.

Jacob paced as he spoke, “And what did you say?… good… Listen, let’s talk strategy later, I’ve got to go.” He frowned as he put his phone away.

“Plotting your next bank robbery, Cowboy Bill?” she joked, leaning against the front of her desk, a trick she’d picked up from Jacob that turned strictly professional conversations into something ever so slightly more intimate.

“Something like that,” he replied, wiping the remaining tension from his face. “I just stopped by to wish everyone well on their first day. Make sure they don’t give you any trouble,” he smirked. “But seriously, it’s a testament to the good work you’ve done that the caseload is already large enough to justify additional staff.”

“That, or I could just be highly inefficient,” she offered in jest, still not used to accepting such high praise from, well, anyone, but especially someone whose opinion she valued so much.

“Mmm, I doubt that,” he returned with a pointed look.

Silence and eye contact stretched on a little longer than Cady was comfortable with. She ran a hand through her hair and glanced at the glass door as if checking for witnesses to this most recent staring contest. Preparing to break the silence as well, she cleared her throat before saying, “So, ah, everyone is out in the filing room now, if you wanted to say ‘hi’. I took them out to lunch as kind of a get to know each other thing. They’re good people, as I guess you know. I think I’ll really enjoy working with them.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ll just say a quick hello, let you all get back to work,” he said, taking the few steps toward the door. Once there though, he paused, holding the handle. Looking back at her he added, “One more thing, Cady. I need you to stay away from my house for a few days.”

She tried not to blush at the implication that she was likely to show up at his home any old time, before remembering that she _had_ in fact done that quite recently. She quickly grasped his intended meaning though. “Jacob, what is really going on with you and Henry?”

He kept his grip on the door handle and looked down at the floor for a few seconds as if running through his options. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he walked back over and rested against the desk right beside her, proving Cady still had a lot to learn about using body language to manipulate a conversation.

She gulped, both at the proximity itself and the conspiratorial turn the conversation was taking, as she waited for him to continue.

Jacob met her eyes, his expression serious. “Remember when I said I had to fire Malachi? Well, that was a bit of an understatement.” His voice was soft and deliberate. “Banishment, Cady, has been the punishment for people who betray their tribe. The tribal council has been talking about bringing it back, as a longer term solution for convicted drug dealers. If we move forward with it, there will be a process, and a vote, with an opportunity to appeal.”

Cady nodded, wondering what the air of mystery was all about. His eyes moved straight in front of him as he continued, “Henry and I… took a more traditional route, with Malachi. It’s not a pretty thing, this ritual. And now it would appear we overestimated his respect of our traditions.”

From his change in demeanor she gathered that he believed these last comments to be particularly revealing and was reluctant to share them. She supposed he was in fact admitting to operating outside current laws, but found the revelation far less shocking than he seemed to expect. She considered mentioning something to this effect, but thought better of it.

His lesson in reservation politics had almost succeeded in distracting her from the statement that led to her line of questioning, but not quite. “But, why now? You said the next few days.”

He grew more somber if that was even possible. “Cady… I meant it when I said you couldn’t get involved. You’ll have to trust me. Henry will be alright.”

Her heart melted a little at his protectiveness of Henry, presumably influenced by guilt over involving him in what was proving to be a dangerous venture. She kept glancing at the side of his face as he refused to look at her, weighing her next words. “You know I—”

The way they were standing balanced against her desk their hands were practically touching. Cady shifted on her palm to bring her fingers over to rest uncertainly on his. He finally returned her gaze, his expression unreadable. She swallowed the last of her hesitation. “It’s not just Henry I’m worried about.”

He slowly removed his index finger from its confines and brought it up to rest on her fingertips, his gentle touch sending a shiver down her spine.

“I know,” he murmured.

He lingered just a few seconds longer before standing back up, straightening his jacket, and stepping towards the door once more. “See you soon, Cady,” he assured her as he took his leave. The door closed behind him and she could hear his muffled greetings to her new employees, his voice relaxed and friendly, betraying none of the strain from just a few moments ago.

* * *

Henry grabbed the bag of food as the SUV came to a stop in Jacob’s driveway. With his truck wrecked and his safety in question, he was getting an armed escort to and from the Red Pony. His classic green truck would normally be considered totaled but Henry wasn’t ready to give up on it, as one of few physical possessions he genuinely cared about. He bid good evening to the security guard on the cobblestone walkway and let himself into the expansive house.

He dropped the bag of burgers and fries on the elevated breakfast bar that made up one side of a large kitchen island. Henry had noticed that Jacob never seemed to use the table and chairs further back in the spacious kitchen, except for storing a small collection of succulents. At the thought he found himself wondering when the table had last hosted any human guests.

From what Henry had glimpsed of his personal life, Jacob had a very solitary, if not lonely, existence. On the previous two days, he had already prepared and eaten dinner before Henry returned from work but today Jacob had called near closing time asking him to bring back ‘the usual.’

“Jacob,” he called. “The prisoner has returned to his cell and he brought take-out.” Jacob entered the room as Henry was unpacking the to-go bag and went to the other side of the island to fill up a couple of glasses of water. Henry was grateful that Jacob had dropped most of his alpha-male posturing since they had banished Malachi together. _I would not have lasted a day otherwise_ , he mused.

They sat down to eat in silence. “So,” Jacob started.

_Oh good, we are making small talk now._

“What’d you think of the tribal council passing the new scholarship program?” he continued.

“‘Funded by Four Arrows Casino.’ I think it lives up to what I have come to expect from the casino, benefitting some members of the tribe more than others.”

“That’s interesting. I wrote the proposal myself, I don’t know how it could’ve been more fair.”

Henry frowned. “The cost is not the only thing keeping these kids from going to college. Even for those that do well the need for income can be more pressing.”

“I know that. Hell, that would’ve been me if—” He caught himself before he could let slip anything too personal. _It is just me and the walls here_ , Henry thought, more annoyed with Jacob’s perpetually guarded nature than his failure to reveal this particular fact. “Look, we can argue about the details if you want, but…” He took a sip of water before continuing, “I’m trying to do a good thing here Henry. If we want to have a future, we have to plan for it now.”

Henry saw what Jacob was trying to say, but he couldn’t get completely behind the man whose influence seemed to be stretching further and further across the Rez’ economy and government. Jacob’s work had brought promising enough results so far, but Henry often wondered how much he looked beyond the dollars and cents to consider the very real individuals making up the empire he was starting to build.

He summed it up for Jacob, “What the tribe needs most, if we want to have a future, is hope. And you cannot buy hope.”

Jacob nodded faintly and shut his eyes for a moment, resigned to the truth of his statement. They passed the rest of their meal without further conversation. Henry was about to get up when Jacob broke the silence once again.

“What are we gonna do about Malachi?”

Henry rolled his eyes, thinking his third day of captivity a strange time to bring up making an active plan to end it. “I thought there was nothing to do. Did you not want to just sit and wait to see if he comes after me again?”

“It’s not only your life at risk, Henry,” he replied sternly.

“Sorry. Maybe we should go looking for him. Oh wait. Walt has been doing that for the past three days,” Henry informed him.

“You talked to Walt?” Jacob asked, revealing a touch of surprise.

“Vic came by the Red Pony today.”

“Ah.” Henry sensed the conversation was not finished though. He sat impatiently as Jacob seemed to mull something over. Finally he continued, more deliberate than before, “What if I _knew_ when Malachi was coming after you? Or me, at any rate.” 

Tired of all the games, Henry asked him point blank, “Jacob, is this a hypothetical or is there something you are not telling me?”

“I had an interesting call from my new head of security. He said Malachi offered him a large sum of money to make sure his team wasn’t around tomorrow night. He accepted, and informed me. Henry, this is our best, maybe only, shot to bring him down.” The determination on Jacob’s face took Henry by surprise. “That said, if we don’t go about it the right way, Walt won’t hesitate to use Malachi’s testimony to get me in prison which, well, we both know how that would end.” He shook his head slightly, as if regretting the limited options they now faced. “That could also leave him free to go after you. So. How much are you willing to risk to get him out of the way for good?” 

Henry contemplated the situation. Everything he said was true. He could not see a way of confronting or intercepting Malachi that did not leave a possibility of him going free. He hated to think it was the only option, but it was becoming a strong possibility that Malachi had to die for them to be truly rid of him.

This still was not a solution though, even if it could be done in self defense. If Malachi died at his or Jacob’s hand, Walt would be sure to arrest one or both of them. He had not been showing Henry the kind of leniency many suspected the sheriff would show his best friend as of late. No, if they were to do this, Walt must be involved. Henry finally answered Jacob’s question with his own, “You realize we will need Walt right?”

“Regrettably, yes I do. This whole thing has gotten out of hand. Maybe…” He trailed off a, grimace passing over his face. “Maybe if he could hear it from Malachi’s mouth he could understand how wrong he’s been.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Jacob's comments on banishment: So I fell really deep into a research hole over these two lines of dialogue and.... the TL;DR version is no, his comments do not reflect circa 2017 or whenever this is set Northern Cheyenne policies, but they are consistent with the strategies that have been employed by many tribes over the past decade or so. If you're interested in the most recent Northern Cheyenne specific article I could find, check it out [here](https://billingsgazette.com/news/state-and-regional/crime-and-courts/northern-cheyenne-president-calls-for-banning-nontribal-drug-traffickers/article_6ec54124-cb38-573e-953b-8d757d915c83.html).


	5. A High Probability of Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Um. I feel the need to say, for those of you who experience an increase in blood pressure at the sight of Walt or the impulse to yeet him into the sun (just as examples), you are not going to like him in this chapter. Don’t hate me. *hides just in case*

It was only 11:30 in the morning and the day had already been eventful. Vic was glad for the distraction, despite the deadly circumstances, and also thankful nothing this involved had come in while she was out.

Walt had called before she even left her house to tell her to meet him at the Red Pony for a homicide. Of course he didn’t lead with the fact that Henry had called in the crime and was not in fact the victim. She’d had a few choice words for his carelessness.

It was Darius Burns that Henry found, in the bushes but not well-hidden, when his escort dropped him off for work. They’d made quick work of the crime scene, bagging a bloody crowbar and rushing the body to the hospital, desperate to get some leads in a murder that was likely related to Malachi and therefore Henry. Doc Weston was obligingly speedy with a time and cause of death but that was all he’d given them so far.

Vic uploaded the fingerprints she’d pulled from the crowbar and filled up her second cup of coffee while the search ran. When she sat back down in front of her laptop, the search was done. “Shit,” she muttered, partly in shock and partly in dread of what she knew would come next. “Walt! You’re gonna want to see this.” He ambled into the room, apparently still not able to decipher the urgency of the situation based on the tone of her voice. 

“What is it?”

Vic pointed to her computer screen. “The fingerprints on the crowbar. They belong to Jacob Nighthorse.”

* * *

Walt spotted Jacob near the almost empty casino bar and wasted no time making his way over to him. Jacob nodded, almost as if he’d been expecting him. “Ah Sheriff, good to see you. I must say I’m surprised it took you so long. I was beginning to wonder if you had finally resigned yourself to your inability to investigate crimes on the Rez.”

Walt had even less patience for Jacob’s ramblings than usual. “While I have no doubt you’re behind Henry’s kidnapping, I’m not here about a crime on the Rez.” He stopped a few feet short of Jacob, right hand subconsciously coming up to rest on the butt of his gun.

“No? Well enlighten me then, what have I supposedly done this time?”

“Murdered Darius Burns.”

“Darius is dead?” Jacob asked. He appeared genuinely surprised but Walt knew by now how good of an actor he could be.

He responded calmly, holding all the cards in his hands, knowing Jacob had no chance of weaseling out of this. “Yes. But you already knew that. The murder weapon has your fingerprints on it.”

_He’s really going for the Oscar now_ , Walt thought, as he watched many manufactured emotions pass over Jacob’s face. The last of which was hopeful curiosity as he asked, “And when did this, murder take place?”

“Doc says between ten and eleven last night.”

“Well there you go,” Jacob said matter-of-factly. “I was at home talking with Henry. You can ask him. Go on, call him up right now.”

Jacob took out his phone and dialed up the Red Pony before Walt could protest. After Henry had confirmed Jacob’s alibi, Walt hung up and passed the phone back.

“Just because you didn’t do it, doesn’t mean you weren’t involved.”

“ _Dear God Walt_ , you can’t _possibly_ believe I hired someone to kill Darius and plant a piece of evidence implicating me as part of some _grand_ conspiracy. That’s a lot of mental gymnastics for someone still recovering from a head injury.”

Walt responded to Jacob’s outburst unfazed, “Maybe. But the fact is I have your fingerprints on the murder weapon. If Henry will testify in court, you won’t be convicted, but that doesn’t stop me from arresting you right now.”

Jacob froze, his indignation being replaced with… Walt couldn’t quite tell, but when Jacob started speaking again his voice was measured and almost eerily calm. “I have an idea of who killed Darius.” He held Walt’s gaze, an intensity in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I think I can prove it too, at great _personal_ risk. But I need your help.”

“My help.”

“Yes. I know you hate me Walt, but you wouldn’t let an innocent man get murdered. I also know if you don’t witness something first hand, well, you certainly won’t take my word for it.” Jacob took exactly one step towards Walt. “So what do you say? If I’m wrong, you can watch me die. If I’m right,” Jacob extended his hand in a symbolic gesture of putting his life in Walt’s, “you’ll save my life.”

* * *

Vic looked up from her paperwork when she heard Walt’s private office door slam. “Walt. Walt!” He came out looking a little tense and avoided looking her in the eye. “Where’s Nighthorse? I thought you were gonna arrest him.”

“He, ah, said he didn’t do it.”

“And you believe him?” she asked incredulously.

“No, but Henry gave him an alibi so.”

“So we found his fingerprints on the murder weapon, and you didn’t arrest him.” Vic struggled to make sense of what Walt was saying. He was really giving up the opportunity to take down his greatest living enemy? Even with the implications of distrusting his best friend’s word she was frozen in disbelief.

“Yep.”

* * *

Henry got out of the SUV and watched as the car retreated down the driveway. He and Jacob had agreed that attempting to keep even a couple of security guards was too risky and could tip Malachi off to their inside information. After too few steps he was at the front door, going through the plan in his mind one more time. He tried to release the tension held in his chest with a deep breath that lingered under the porch light before unlocking the door. He didn’t know what to expect; after all, the tip could have been fake or Malachi could have changed his plan. He walked toward the living room where he could see a light was on.

His stomach dropped a bit at seeing Malachi calmly sitting in the middle of the room, resting a handgun on his leg.

“I was surprised to find Jacob here, Hank. I figured your pal Longtimer would’ve locked him up by now.”

Henry’s eyes followed the direction Malachi indicated with a nod of his head and was relieved to see Jacob was alive but restrained and gagged, in a back corner of the room, near the windows. He knew it was up to him to get Malachi talking but judging by their last few encounters that was not the difficult part. He had to trust that providing him with a guaranteed-win situation would be enough to finally reveal the truth.

“Malachi. What are you doing here?” he said, as casually as possible.

“Heh heh, you couldn’t have thought you’d get away that easy Hank. I guess you didn’t, seeing as you shacked up with this coward,”—he said, nodding once more toward Jacob—“and his fancy security team. Wanna know how much their treason cost? Never mind, it doesn’t matter now anyway.”

Around this time, Henry’s thoughts started focusing on the handgun tucked into the back of his jeans. It was very much not part of the plan but he resented being such a passive actor when his life was at stake. He wondered how long it would take between his first movement and having the gun in his hand pointed at Malachi. _Too long_.

Malachi must have read something in his face as he gestured with his gun at him, “You armed Hank? It’s actually better for me if you have your own gun, but for the time being I’d prefer if you pass it over here.”

Henry slowly complied, feeling he had no choice with Malachi keeping his gun trained on him the whole time. “I was planning on taking you out to some far away plot of dirt, much farther than the last one, and watching you die myself. Correct a few of my past mistakes. But then I found your friend Jacob here and everything seemed to fall into place.”

Henry squinted, trying to follow Malachi’s logic. Clearly he wanted them both dead. For Jacob, prison was as good as a death sentence with Malachi’s connections to the Brotherhood. But they had spoiled that plan.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, sensing it was what Malachi wanted him to do but also hoping to draw out even more of a confession.

“Well, Jacob here killed a man last night, at least that’s what everyone will be forced to believe if you’re not around to say he didn’t. And you, Hank, you got suspicious, you confronted him about your kidnapping and found out he was behind it all along. He didn’t invite you to stay here for your protection, no, he was waiting for the right moment to finish you off. One thing led to another and you both pulled out your guns. Huh, I might be getting a bit ahead of myself there, eh Hank?”

Henry’s mind was racing. The fact that Malachi’s fictional account almost made sense was terrifying. He could see now that Malachi was not only intent on killing them, he wanted to _get away with it_. He continued to play along though, it being his only option.

“Walt knows you were the one who kidnapped me. Even if he believes it was on Jacob’s orders, he will come after you.” Henry could swear he heard something behind him around the corner but he kept his eyes on Malachi, who had started laughing.

“Walter Longmire is powerless to believe anything I’ve done was _not_ under Jacob’s orders. With you two gone, no one alive will be able to tie me to any of it without implicating themselves. And they’ll see clearer than ever what happens to traitors,” he spat. He quickly regained his composure, his gun still casually trained on Henry. “So, who wants to go first? Why don’t we let Hank decide, eh Jacob?”

The room froze before him. His heart beat kicked up a notch as the moment arrived. Of course Malachi would make him choose. He and Jacob both had that sense of showmanship, unable to resist a touch of the dramatic. It was what they were counting on.

Henry looked over to Jacob who was blinking deliberately at him, his meaning hard to miss. “Jacob.” Henry said it with way more conviction than he felt, despite his belief in Walt. His heart was beating so rapidly; it all came down to these last few seconds. For Henry they seemed to pass in slow motion.

In the exact moment in Malachi’s movement when his gun was not pointed at him any longer but not yet pointed at Jacob, Henry heard a loud voice call out from behind him. Malachi’s arm moved to correct course in light of this new target and Henry heard a shot and instinctively dove to the floor. When another second passed without further gunfire, he looked up just as Malachi fell forward. He turned back to Walt who, along with relief, wore the look of someone who had just unwillingly killed a man, and simply nodded.

The next few hours somehow felt considerably quicker than the previous thirty seconds. In them Walt called Ferg in to make the whole thing more official. He took some pictures and helped Walt carry the body out to the Bronco hidden in Jacob’s garage after Walt protested to calling an ambulance. Once Henry finished giving Ferg his official statement, he found his former-and-maybe-future best friend.

“I do not mean to make light of an objectively terrible situation, but, setting up a sting with two civilians, no backup, and a high probability of failure? What will Milgrom say when he hears about this?”

“Don’t worry about it Henry. You’re safe now.”

“And Jacob?” Henry asked, not taking for granted Walt’s acceptance of Malachi’s freely given confession.

Walt let out a sigh, clearly reluctant to speak. “Yeah.” He glanced over at the man in question, still talking with Ferg. “Jacob too.”


	6. Accepting the Consequences

Vic put down the phone slowly, letting the information sink in. It wasn’t the first time she had been blindsided by something Walt should have told her himself but this time she wasn’t going to let him skirt around the true weight of his actions. _Not the first time, but it sure as fuck better be the last,_ she thought as she stormed towards his office.

She opened the door without knocking. Walt was stretched out on the couch, arms and legs crossed. He jerked his head towards her as if snapping out of a reverie. She did a double take at the uncharacteristic sight.

“Walt,” she started, asking for his attention which had quickly returned to his boots after she walked in. “I just got off the phone with Dr. Weston. He wanted to give you an update on Malachi.” Her pause for emphasis went unnoticed or else unheeded. “He said you brought him in last night. To the morgue.” She crossed her arms, waiting for him to explain.

It was a short battle of wills; despite her stubbornness, Vic had never been the more patient of the two. She might as well have been waiting for a boulder to push itself up a hill.

“What happened?”

He spared her one short glance before answering. “There was a shooting.” Vic’s glare dared him to end his statement there and he wisely continued, “At Nighthorse’s. He and Henry asked me to, uh, back them up. He had a tip that Malachi might show up, so. Guess that’s over with,” he gave her his ‘I’m not telling you everything but I sure hope you’ll stop asking questions’ smile and turned his eyes back to his boots.

“And you didn’t think to call me? You just go after the most wanted man in the county by yourself? Damn it Walt, I said I wasn’t gonna let you do this shit anymore,” she said rubbing her eyes.

“It’s not your fault. I ju—” She’d heard enough before he even got the second sentence out.

“I know it’s not _my_ fault. I just don’t know what it’ll take to get through to you. I would do _anything_ for you.” She bit her lip, deciding the time for honesty was now if she hoped to actually accomplish anything. “I love you, Walt.”

That finally got a reaction out of him. She continued quickly, trying to ignore his gaping stare, “And this is not me saying that I’m _in love_ with you or something. I just… I hate seeing you like this. Going off on your own, not letting us help you. You remember, not that long ago when I was the loose cannon and you were the one holding me back?” She gave him a forced smile. “I miss that.”

He just looked at her, a combination of fear and understanding in his eyes. She saw him swallow before he gave her a slight nod, apparently believing the conversation to be over.

“Are you not even gonna say anything?”

Something seemed to click in his head as he turned back to her, “Oh yeah, uh, what was it Doc Weston had to say?”

* * *

Cady sat across from Jacob on a couch in his office, having been asked to meet him there after end of business.

The stress from a few days ago was gone but his demeanor was still serious as he got right to the point. “I thought you should know, Henry won’t be staying with me anymore. Because he’s safe. Because Darius and Malachi are dead.”

“Did you…”

“Your father pulled the trigger. I just thought you should hear it before it makes the papers.”

Cady let his words and their various implications settle. Evidently he had reason to believe Walt wouldn’t tell her what happened, _which included him killing a man._ This worried her and only increased her curiosity. Jacob was at least feigning to be forthcoming. Now that there was no chance of her involvement putting her in harm’s way, or whatever lame excuse he’d used, she wondered if he would keep his discretion. She’d been on the outskirts of Walt and Henry’s shenanigans long enough to know there was probably a reason they didn’t share every detail of their lives with her. But she was a grown-ass woman and she wanted some answers. She tested his resolve. “Are you going to answer my questions this time?”

He smirked, but his eyes were still thoughtful as he replied, “Just this once.”

* * *

Cady took one last steadying breath before getting out of her car, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do. She’d come right over from talking with Jacob, hoping the fresh anger would carry her through what was bound to be a difficult confrontation. She didn’t knock on the cabin door, just let herself in. Walt was on the couch, a book in his hands and a beer on the table beside him.

He glanced up as she came in. “Hey Punk.” He put down the book. “Want me to grab you a beer or something?”

“No thanks. I won’t be staying.” She hoped her voice and face were as calm as she was trying to keep them, determined to save her emotion for when it was needed.

“Okay. What’d you come by for then?” he asked. “Not that it’s not, uh, good to see you. You just, haven’t come around in a while.”

The absolute quiet of the cabin almost succeeded in quenching her words but she forced them out. “I talked to Jacob. He told me what happened last night.” His expression quickly soured but Cady pressed on. “He told me a lot of things.”

“Listen Punk, it’s not—”

“I really don’t want to hear it, Dad. This is insane. You put an innocent man and your best friend in a room with a known violent criminal because, what? That was the _only_ way?”

“But—”

“You know what Jacob thought? That you’d never believe him if you didn’t personally hear Malachi boasting to a couple of soon to be dead men. That putting his _life_ in your hands was the only way to stay out of prison, or worse.”

He began moving his mouth to protest again but she didn’t miss a beat, temper rising as she leveled the next blow, “Speaking of which, you threatened to _wrongfully arrest him_ , knowing he couldn’t be guilty! I know this whole thing with Malachi was a fucked up situation, but you were the only one who had a choice in all of it and you made the wrong one.”

She let that sink in for a minute, gratified that he had finally given up on interrupting, perhaps out of shock.

The tears were threatening to come at last as she started speaking again, but she forced them back down. “You know I’ll never stop loving you Dad. This isn’t just because you were wrong about Jacob. If he was actually guilty, the way you’ve been acting would be just as upsetting.”

She took a deep breath, knowing and accepting the consequences of her next words. “But if you choose not to see what you’re becoming, I can’t just stand by and watch. You’ll have to relieve me of that burden.”

Cady turned away before he had time to react and walked straight out the door. The tears she was expecting never came as she made her way back to the car. Headlights briefly lit the cabin as she turned around and drove off into the night.


	7. Epilogue

He sipped his morning coffee in the cluttered office, going over the books from the past week. The numbers were mostly good, a relief coming off a dry couple of months. A knock came at the door and Gary walked in without waiting for a response.

“This came for you,” was all he said as he passed over the manila envelope. “No return address.”

He seemed to be waiting around, maybe hoping to get a glimpse of what lay inside the mysterious package. “Thanks,” he said, holding up the envelope to indicate Gary had done his job and could kindly piss off.

Free from prying eyes he removed a newspaper from the envelope, the _Durant Courant_. The front page had a large picture of a man he instantly recognized as Sheriff Walt Longmire and a smaller picture of another man he knew. The headline read _“Sheriff Takes Down Man Responsible for Large Scale Drug Operation, Prostitution on the Rez_.”

He scowled down at the paper. _Well, well, well,_ he thought. _The man certainly lives up to his reputation._

“Gary!” he called.

He appeared once more in the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Muldoon?”

“Get a hold of Eddie. Tell him to get his ass back to Boston. The fatality rate in Absaroka just went up and we’re out our inside man. We might have to rethink that whole operation…”

“Yes sir,” he replied before closing the door.

_Walt Longmire. Well played._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _To be continued…_
> 
> Thanks for reading. Feel free to @ me with predictions and/or questions, or any other comments, I love to read them.


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